


Sk8er Boi

by FrancescaFiona



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alice regretting her marriage, Canon Relationships, F/M, FP's an asshole in High School, One Shot, Secret pregnancy, Song: Skater Boi (Avril Lavigne), falice - Freeform, kind of a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 16:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16936758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancescaFiona/pseuds/FrancescaFiona
Summary: He was a boy,She was a girl,Can I make it any more obvious?He started a band,But she couldn’t play,What more can I say?She wanted him,He’d never tell,Secretly he wanted her as well,But all of his friends,Stuck up their nose,They had a problem with her leather clothesAlice overhears Betty playing an Avril Lavigne song in her bedroom and finds herself (while she tries to decide if that kind of music is really suitable for Betty) considering her own youth and the song’s portrayal of change of fortune.*Falice all the way!*





	Sk8er Boi

**Author's Note:**

> Neither the characters nor the song belong to me - as much as I wish...
> 
> I hope you like this!

“Betty!” Alice yells up the stairs. “Will you turn that noise _down!_ Some of us are trying to be productive!”

 

No response. The music continues to blare, leaving Alice to try and drown out the melody as she writes, though she ends up following it.

 

Not that she’s musical, at all.

 

She wonders if she had been, whether her life may have been different. Whether it would be _Betty_ upstairs at all.

 

Whoa!

 

 _That_ was a forbidden train of thought!

 

She shakes her head angrily.

 

“Elizabeth Cooper!” she calls again. “Don’t make me come up there!”

 

But the damage has been done. The prickles of regret have started to bite at her.

 

 

 

 _He_ was in a band, yes. But _she_ had been the ‘skater boy’ in High school.

 

And since Alice Smith was not yet at the stage where she’d sink low enough to become a River Vixen _just_ to get the excuse to talk to FP Jones, the band seemed like a pretty good bet.

 

Or had, until it was pointed out to her that she was Southside scum, and would probably just go to the practice to steal the equipment or something.

 

“Fuck you, then,” Alice snapped picking up her things to leave.

 

She didn’t want to be part of their shitty band anyway!

 

However, before she could make it through the door, FP had run up behind her and snatched the notebook out of her hand, the one she always carried.

 

“FP! You asshole!” screamed Alice, swatting at him. “Give that back!”

 

“You write poetry,” he asked with an incredulous smirk, flicking through the pages and trying not to look too impressed.

 

“It’s not,” she shrugged loftily, trying not to punch his lights out. “They’re…song lyrics.”

 

Nah…it had been poetry, but Alice was hoping that FP might invite her to join his band as a songwriter, as any decent guy would have.

 

But FP was an asshole.

 

“Well, good luck with that,” he said, not with malice but with a kind of sarcastic resignation.

 

Ooohhh, she hated him.

 

A bit, at least.

 

No, maybe _hate_ was too harsh.

 

He was just…just an _artist._

 

And he did have a lovely smile.

 

Alice glowered as he and Fred Andrews sniggered away, leaving her standing in the corridor. 

 

Alone…Just like usual.

 

Staring after the one person she was actually interested in. And he didn’t give a shit.

 

Which wasn’t true.

 

It was in English class that FP got to stare at Alice, because in English there was the dreaded _seating plan,_ which, to everyone’s amusement, put Alice next to Penelope Blossom. But is also meant that she didn’t have her normal seat at the back and FP could gaze at her without the threat of discovery.

 

Or so he thought.

 

“FP Jones seems to find the back of your head pretty interesting!” hissed Penelope. “Better than the front, anyway.”

 

Alice’s head whipped around and she saw FP peeking at her from behind his textbook.

 

Busted.

 

Immediately he looked down, red in the face, and Alice felt the triumph of getting some kind of reaction out of him.

 

She turned back to Penelope.

 

“You know what?” she said. “Penelope, you are absolutely right.”

 

But as time went on, despite the fact that, in private, FP seemed increasingly content to spend time with Alice (a little _too_ content, perhaps), in the halls at school, he was as unreachable as ever. So much so, that nobody suspected that she was having his baby - having a baby at _all,_ thanks to Hal’s quick thinking (more like his parents’ chequebook, though the two often blurred into one).

 

Alice didn’t even tell FP he was a father. Why bother? Why burden him with actual _responsibility?_ Or the notion of consequence?

 

Because whatever interest he had in Alice had apparently evaporated.

 

He was too good for her…he and Fred were building a multimillion dollar construction company…they would move to the city…blah, blah.

 

But it’s Alice who gets into College.

 

Alice who marries into the heart of the Northside.

 

And Alice who, at forty-years-old has a job and, on the surface, a perfectly normal and functional family, whereas FP is an alcoholic gang member, with a bad record and a worse reputation. A reputation _so_ bad, it’s years before he dares to show his face around the nice clean streets of North Riverdale.

 

“Goodnight FP. Now get the hell out of my neighbourhood,” Alice says with practiced coldness as she banishes him from her street. 

 

She can do that now. 

 

Send him on his way back to the Southside. And, in a way, she has every right to after he made it very clear in High school that they moved in different circles.

 

“You’re still hot Alice,” FP drawls by way of receipt.

 

And that’s something that hasn’t changed. She is. And he’s really, _really_ jealous of the poor excuse for a human being who she married, to the point where he can’t even _look_ at him.

 

Alice tries to look aloof and impassive, but she doesn’t get a lot of compliments, and coming from FP, even with the slightly sleazy squint he gives her at the same time, it means a great deal. Not that she'd ever admit that.

 

It probably always will.

 

“Too bad you’re a stick in the mud,” he finishes, bitter with longing.

 

She raises her eyebrows, misreading his hurt demeanour for his normal one.

 

Oh, _this_ again?

 

But, strangely enough, it’s pity she feels for FP as he’s driving away, not the satisfaction in his comeuppance the always thought she’d feel if she ever saw him again.

 

He’s lost his wife, and both his kids - Jughead isn’t living with him, she knows that much. And over the years he’s slipped deeper and deeper into the snake pit that is the Southside, while she-

 

“Betty!” roars Hal, breaking Alice out of her thoughts. “Listen to your mother!”

 

Oh God.

 

Hal.

 

“Wow, Hal,” Alice says frostily. “Well I _am_ honoured. Too bad you don’t take your own advice. Otherwise you might still have _two_ daughters to yell at.”

 

He gives her that disbelieving look that drives her crazy, and not with passion, either.

 

It’s slightly vacant, as though he isn’t emotionally _all there,_ which, after nearly twenty years of marriage, Alice is pretty convinced is the case.

 

“What, Alice?” he challenges with the same arrogant gawp.

 

She doesn’t even answer, and doesn’t ask Hal where he’s going when he leaves without a goodbye.

 

 _He’ll be back soon enough,_ she thinks tiredly. _God help us._

 

She rubs her temples and allows herself to regret the decision, sensible though it was, to marry a Cooper, not a Jones. Because without Hal, she’d have so much less.

 

 _And so much more,_ the demon of her serpent past whispers. _Think about it._

 

Alice doesn’t want to. 

 

She goes back to her article, knowing now she’ll have to _apologise_ to Hal, which is even more of a strain than agreeing with him in the first place.

 

 

_Sorry girl but you missed out,_

 

_What tough luck that boy’s mine now,_

 

_We are more than just good friends,_

 

_This is how the story ends…._

 

 

Alice slams the lid of her laptop shut.

 

“That’s it,” she hisses, storming up the stairs she lives to keep immaculate. “Elizabeth!”

 

The music stays on.

 

Suspicion begins to creep in. This isn’t like Betty…

 

 

“Elizabeth?” Alice calls, a little more urgently, before flinging the door open.

 

Betty isn’t in her room. There’s just a note.

 

Alice darts across the room and snatches it off the bedcovers.

 

 

**_Mom - don’t be mad._ **

 

**_I’ve gone to see Jughead._ **

 

**_I’ll be back soon._ **

 

**_B xxxxx_ **

 

 

Gone to see _Jughead?_

 

Gone to see him _where?_

 

And for how _long?_

 

And with _whom?_

 

And why couldn’t you have _told_ me?

 

Alice tuts agitatedly and shakes her head, _fuming._  

 

But she can’t judge Betty too harshly. Alice wouldn’t have told her mother either. Didn’t, actually, if memory serves.

 

And despite the fact that Jughead is a little…dark, and hasn't taken his hat off for a long as anyone could remember, he is a Jones.

 

Alice sighs.

 

And though it rips you apart, and although they hurt you, you just can’t help but love them.

 

 

_...I'll be at our studio,_

 

_Singing that song you wrote,_

 

_About a girl you used to know..._


End file.
